she's not your queen anymore [lost]
Title: she's not your queen anymore
Fandom: LOST
Summary: There's a wide-eyed girl who dances on Tuesdays, and Sayid goes just for her.
Pairing: Kate/Sayid
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Oh hi Kayid. <3
There's a wide-eyed girl who dances on Tuesdays, and Sayid goes just for her.
You're sweet, she says tonight, just like she does every night. And she sips the drink he buys her and shows him a new scar each week. A bike accident. He chooses to believe her because he has nothing else to believe in. And when the night begins drawing to a close, she cheats and shows him one more, propping her leg on the table and forcing his hand under his thigh.
Sheet metal, is all she says.
His fingertips glide past the scar and under her thigh. The muscle quivers on his skin. She grins like a lioness, and he is the doe.
Trapped, and he likes it.
I don't fuck customers, she murmurs before taking him back to her apartment. He won't notice the color of the walls until well into the morning, nor will he see how clean it is, or how much dust layers the glass of the coffee tables. His eyes will focus on hers, and then on her shoulders, and then on the curve of her breasts, and then further on, until he is lost in her.
She is a great chasm, a shiver here and there and a river bed, muddy and pure.
He wants to know what it's like to be perfect, but can't bring himself to give her that awful weight to carry. Because she isn't, not when the sun comes up and he can see all her little messes and the scars stand out like sentry men on her skin, and she doesn't want him to see her anymore.
Sayid doesn't visit the club for a while, avoiding the street where it sits, brooding and pulsating with blood and sweat and dollar bills. He remembers the first time she said her name (kate, a whisper and a secret) and how he was frozen to his seat while she laughed and danced off, gliding into the arms of the stage.
A month after, he finally steps inside, only to find she's run off.
Gone. Took her check and left, the bartender says. You wasn't hung up on her, was you? And Sayid just nods, because lying seems like a stupid thing to do at this point. The bartender fixes him a drink and tells him about a red head he loved in Memphis who took everything he had and left him naked under a buglamp on his front porch, still needy and still consumed by her.
They don't make these girls the same way they make others. These girls is done for before they's born.
Sayid thinks, they don't make love the way they used to either. But it seems a bit uncalled for, now that the bartender is moving on and his scotch is nearly gone and it's only four in the afternoon.
If it's meant to be, he knows, she'll come wandering back with all the things she took from him in her suitcase, brown eyes still laughing and burning with a hilarious fire.
Fandom: LOST
Summary: There's a wide-eyed girl who dances on Tuesdays, and Sayid goes just for her.
Pairing: Kate/Sayid
Rating: PG-13
Notes: Oh hi Kayid. <3
There's a wide-eyed girl who dances on Tuesdays, and Sayid goes just for her.
You're sweet, she says tonight, just like she does every night. And she sips the drink he buys her and shows him a new scar each week. A bike accident. He chooses to believe her because he has nothing else to believe in. And when the night begins drawing to a close, she cheats and shows him one more, propping her leg on the table and forcing his hand under his thigh.
Sheet metal, is all she says.
His fingertips glide past the scar and under her thigh. The muscle quivers on his skin. She grins like a lioness, and he is the doe.
Trapped, and he likes it.
I don't fuck customers, she murmurs before taking him back to her apartment. He won't notice the color of the walls until well into the morning, nor will he see how clean it is, or how much dust layers the glass of the coffee tables. His eyes will focus on hers, and then on her shoulders, and then on the curve of her breasts, and then further on, until he is lost in her.
She is a great chasm, a shiver here and there and a river bed, muddy and pure.
He wants to know what it's like to be perfect, but can't bring himself to give her that awful weight to carry. Because she isn't, not when the sun comes up and he can see all her little messes and the scars stand out like sentry men on her skin, and she doesn't want him to see her anymore.
Sayid doesn't visit the club for a while, avoiding the street where it sits, brooding and pulsating with blood and sweat and dollar bills. He remembers the first time she said her name (kate, a whisper and a secret) and how he was frozen to his seat while she laughed and danced off, gliding into the arms of the stage.
A month after, he finally steps inside, only to find she's run off.
Gone. Took her check and left, the bartender says. You wasn't hung up on her, was you? And Sayid just nods, because lying seems like a stupid thing to do at this point. The bartender fixes him a drink and tells him about a red head he loved in Memphis who took everything he had and left him naked under a buglamp on his front porch, still needy and still consumed by her.
They don't make these girls the same way they make others. These girls is done for before they's born.
Sayid thinks, they don't make love the way they used to either. But it seems a bit uncalled for, now that the bartender is moving on and his scotch is nearly gone and it's only four in the afternoon.
If it's meant to be, he knows, she'll come wandering back with all the things she took from him in her suitcase, brown eyes still laughing and burning with a hilarious fire.